


Burning

by tirsynni



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 05:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10210463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tirsynni/pseuds/tirsynni
Summary: "Execution?" Edward inquired.  "That's a bit overboard."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another livejournal fic.

Crossing one ankle over the other, Edward Elric braced his chin on his palm and stared at the wall. Conversations carried on around him, voices cold and harsh and desperate. His eyes traced the intricate designs in the wall, moving over to the tapestries, absently attempting to read the stories written there. Beside him, the voices were rising. Edward wondered if he was misreading that word: surely, it couldn’t mean what he was reading.

“We will not—”

Surely not, Edward decided. He tilted his head to one side and studied the characters a little harder. Ah, he missed that line. Now it made much more sense. He sighed quietly to himself. Sooner or later, he would have the entire text translated. Probably sooner. He shifted his ankles, losing feeling in his feet. He wiggled his toes. The slippers tickled.

“—such disrespectful behavior. We—”

Hopefully, this wall would be more interesting than the last wall. Of course, that taught him several new words. That was always a plus. Edward slid his legs so they crossed, silk whishing lightly.

“—execution.”

Edward stiffened minutely. Slowly, he tilted his head towards his lover. “Execution?” he inquired. He glanced out of the corner of his eye towards the man kneeling before them. “That’s a bit overboard.”

The words were soft, the warning in them even softer. However, his lover heard them and paused. One purple eye narrowed at him. “Overboard?” Greed echoed, his voice disturbingly tender. His voice was as soft as Edward’s, but in the sudden silence that had fallen over the throne room, Edward could clearly hear his voice. Edward leaned back in his own throne, his elegant hairstyle awkward-feeling against his skull on the hard throne.

“Overboard,” he repeated. Edward smiled at his lover, showing the slightest bit of fang. He could feel all eyes in the throne room on them. A year ago, that had bothered him. Now he didn’t flinch. Not even the frightened eyes of the Amestrian prisoner on the Xingian floor unnerved him. “The young man is here because of a false impression. No reason to kill him for that.”

No, the eyes did not bother him, nor the feel of the throne beneath him. The words, however, weighed down his tongue, too soft and formal and stilted. The meaning of the sentence weighed him down more, but Edward held himself steady. Eight years ago, he had to make adjustments to military life. Being the royal Consort to the Xingian Emperor just required a couple more adjustments on his part.

Judging by Ling’s small, warm smile, the stilted words had worked. “Agreed,” the Emperor said with a nod. He turned back to the stiff Amestrian man kneeling on the floor, two Xingian guards holding the man’s arms firmly behind his back. Edward didn’t copy the motion, instead turning his gaze back to the tapestries. No need to pay more attention. “We agree with Our Consort’s words. You—”

Edward tuned him out. The man would survive. That was all he needed to know.

And he did not want to see that damned Amestrian uniform any longer than he had to.

After that incident, the rest of the day went smoothly, requiring no more words on Edward’s part. When Ling’s advisors requested a meeting, Edward nodded calmly at them and walked back to his rooms.

The first tapestry had interested Edward the most. Striding past his kneeling slaves, Edward entered his bath. Hands were instantly on him, carefully sliding the royal robes from his body. Edward ignored them, remembering the tapestry. Ling had told him that it was actually that tapestry that had interested him in the Philosopher’s Stone . . . or as it was now called, the Emperor’s Stone.

The slaves did not touch Edward’s hair, and he made no move to touch it, either, as they guided him towards the bath. The tub was larger than many of the hotel rooms in which Edward had frequented. Hot water and frothy, scented bubbles filled it. The slaves helped Edward into the bath, not one commenting about his short legs. A part of Edward almost wished they would.

Reclining in the bath, Edward allowed them to wash his body, his mind drifting to the tapestry. The characters were fine and elegant, but the graceful bird had been what had caught Edward’s eye. Seeing his interest, Ling had leaned over and explained.

The slaves thoroughly cleaned Edward’s feet, legs, stomach, chest, arms, and back. Edward closed his eyes when two carefully pulled the ornaments from his hair and brushed it out. A moment later, they poured water over his scalp, avoiding his eyes. The scented shampoos were scrubbed in a moment.

The phoenix . . . the firebird . . . death and life and hope and _fire_ , fire to cleanse away the sins of the past and bring about new life for the future. Ling’s voice had been enraptured when he told the tale of the firebird, his black eyes soft. In Xing, the Emperor’s Stone was not associated with Pharmacy . . . it was associated with the phoenix.

Of course, it was Greed who pointed out that only death could bring about new life. His voice had not been harsh but practical, even if his violet eyes remained hungry.

After washing his hair, the slaves left cloths and soaps and left Edward alone in the large room. Grabbing a cloth, Edward scrubbed his face and neck. Then the blond grabbed another cloth, arched his body, and scrubbed his anus. The action burned, and he hissed lowly at the friction against the delicate tissues. As carefully as he could, Edward then wiped the inside of the tight ring of muscle, this time with bath oil. He breathed deeply, remembering the enchanting figure of the phoenix on the fading tapestry: so bright and beautiful, despite the wear and tear so evident on the tapestry.

Next, Edward wiped his soft cock and balls. The sensitive skin was bruised; Edward refused to open his eyes.

The part that had attracted Edward the most was the _life_ coming from such death. Perhaps that was why Ling had insisted on explaining the tapestry to him. Edward didn’t know. He just remembered the Phil . . . the Emperor’s Stone, Alphonse’s life, and his “death”.

Was Alphonse the one responsible for that young soldier being here? Mustang? Which one would Edward prefer?

Scrubbed clean, long blond hair wet and heavy on his shoulders just above the water, Edward leaned against the wall of the tub and waited. He did not have to wait long.

Greed knew his schedule.

“Ling’s quite happy with you for that move,” Greed commented, walking into the room. Edward tilted his head back a little. “I think he was a little afraid that you wanted to leave with that man.”

Edward scoffed. Smooth hands settled on his shoulders, long fingers moving through the wet hair. “Bullshit. He’s too much of a cocky shit for that.” He cracked open one eye, meeting violet. “So are you, for that matter.”

Greed grinned, white shining behind tense lips. “True,” he agreed merrily. Edward clenched his jaw when Greed’s hands tightened. “But I wanted that man dead for daring to try to take you away.”

“He thought I was a prisoner,” Edward retorted. He refused to let the pain show on his face: Greed wouldn’t do enough to cause any actual damage. “It would be better if you let him return to Amestris: let him tell them I’m here of my own free will.”

More than his own free will: after all, Edward had _offered_.

Greed’s hands left his shoulders, and Edward closed his eyes again. He could hear the soft sounds of silk sliding from bare flesh. The water shifted around him. Then Greed’s hands were on him again, now on his hips.

“I wanted him dead, though,” Greed pointed out reasonably. His hands were unnaturally hard against Edward’s skin. “That _is_ the cost of theft, particularly theft against _me_.”

Edward slit his eyes open. Greed’s glittering eyes were inches from his own. “Is he alive?” he asked simply.

Greed’s smile answered him. Then Greed was lifting him from the water with ease. Edward arched, his hair flowing down his back, water sliding down his skin. By Greed’s purr, he appreciated the move.

By Xingian law—by _Greed’s_ law—the Amestrian should have been killed the moment he touched Edward. For Edward, the man had been spared.

Thus, Edward didn’t say a word when Greed held Edward above his hips.

“Ling wants to play with you later,” Greed whispered in his ear. His fangs scraped against Edward’s earlobe, almost drawing blood. “For now, you can make it up to me.”

Edward couldn’t help clutching Greed’s shoulders when the homunculus’s rock-like length slid into him. The bath oil eased the way a little, but Edward still gasped at the feel of Greed’s unyielding cock. It shoved into him, pressing back sensitive tissue. Edward’s eyes rolled.

“So beautiful like this,” Greed continued softly, pulling Edward down so the young man sat completely on Greed’s thighs. Edward barely heard him. Arching involuntarily, the back of Edward’s head brushed the surface of the bath. “Worthy of being my Consort.”

Greed’s hands effortlessly lifted Edward before slamming him back down. Water splashed into his face but Edward didn’t notice, pain and pleasure tightening his lower body. He grunted breathlessly and closed his eyes again. Greed continuously lifted and dropped him, and Edward kept himself relaxed for the smooth motion, feeling Greed’s length sliding in and out and in and out, Greed not feeling it but _seeing_ Edward impaled on his black cock and Edward determinedly concentrating only on the pleasure.

It would be too easy for Greed to accidentally hurt Edward like this. Both of them knew it. Neither admitted that the thought kept them both hard.

Edward bit back the moans, feeling the water splash around him as Greed’s cock slammed into him again. His gut cramped and it made it hard to lean back but he refused to lean forward, to hide himself. He kept his body open to Greed’s cock and to Greed’s eyes and felt Greed crack under him. The cock shifted in his body, and then Greed’s hips were rolling, slamming _up_ into Edward’s body even as he yanked Edward’s body down. Now the homunculus was panting and Edward could _feel_ his hunger and he allowed the barest hint of a smile to touch his lips.

“Too beautiful,” Greed groaned out, and Edward could hear the laughter in his voice. “ _Too_ beautiful.”

Edward laughed even as he came, even as Greed’s hands tightened agonizingly on his hips and red flashes blazed behind him, reminding him of fire and death and endless rebirth. His orgasm did not satisfy him, not nearly as much as the sensation of Greed convulsing under him. Fire flashing behind his eyes, through his body, Edward laughed until he was too breathless to continue.

When Edward opened his eyes again, he was in Ling’s arms, the young Emperor frowning at the reddening water. “You should have just let us kill him,” Ling commented reprovingly, grabbing a washcloth. Edward bared his teeth in a horrible grin when Ling carefully wiped the blond’s bruised anus. “It’s not worth you being injured.”

Edward shrugged carelessly. Ling stepped out of the bath first and helped his unsteady lover out. Pain flared through Edward’s lower body, but it did nothing to soften his wild grin.

“Edward,” Ling began, but Edward’s lips silenced him.

As Edward had told the man right before the Amestrian’s arrest, he was here of his own volition. He had willingly accompanied the pair to Xing, willingly bound himself to be their Consort. He had even willingly donned the royal silks and shed his watch.

Edward pulled back and licked his lips. He could barely even feel the pain anymore. “Bed?” he asked simply.

He wasn’t sure if he was dying or being reborn: All he knew was he was still bound in the flames.


End file.
